"tri)c  inion  flfiissionarp 

(ifieOical  School  for  iiomcn 

.--.  VELLORE,  INDIA " 


A message  from 

EDITH  CAVELL 


EMERGENCY  CALLS  FOR  RECRUITS 

100.000. 000  WOMEN  IN  INDIA  — 159  Women  Doctors 

200.000. 000  WOMEN  IN  CHINA  93  Women  Doctors 

50,000,000  WOMEN  IN  AFRICA — 15  Women  Doctors 

100.000. 000  Women  in  Moslem  Lands— 20  Women  Doctors 


THEY  /VRE  DYING  IN  iHE  TRENCHES 
ON  THE  BATTLEFIELD  OF  MOTHERHOOD 


THE  CAPTAIN  OF  YOUR  SALVATION  CALLS 

WILL  YOU  GO?  WHY  NOT? 

GIVE  HIM  VOUR  REASONS 


REPROOUCTIO**  O'  '.AROe  POSTS' 


BOARDS  PLEDGED  TO  THE  SUPPORT  OF  THE 


Union  Missionary  Medical  School 

VELLORE,  INDIA 

Woman’s  American  Baptist  Foreign  Mission  Society, 

Ford  Building,  Boston,  Mass. 

Woman’s  Board  of  Missions,  Congregational, 

1 4 Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 

Woman’s  Foreign  Mission  Society,  Dutch  Reformed  Church, 

25  East  22nd  Street,  New  York  City 

Woman’s  Foreign  Mission  Society,  United  Lutheran, 

844  Drexel  Bldg.,  Philadelphia,  Pa. 

Chairman  of  the  Board  of  Governors, 

Rev.  James  L.  Barton,  D.D., 

1 4 Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Mass. 

Secretary  and  Treasurer, 

Rev.  W.  I.  Chamberlain,  Ph.  D., 

25  East  22nd  Street,  New  York  City 


Note.  -Other  Boards  in  the  United  States  and  Great  Britain  will,  it  is 
expected,  join  in  the  support  of  this  Medical  School.  Dr.  McPhail  of  the  Free 
Church  of  Scotland,  has  been  assigned  to  the  staff. 


CrusiaberS 

THE  UNION  MEDICAL 
SCHOOL  FOR  WOMEN 

of  Compassion 

VELLORE,  SOUTH  INDIA 

'If  she  have  sent  her  servants  in  our  pain. 

If  she  have  fought  with  death  and  dulled  his  sword, 

If  she  have  given  back  our  dead  to  life  again. 

And  to  the  breast  the  weakling  lips  restored — 

Is  it  a little  thing  that  she  has  wrought? 

Then  life  and  death  and  motherhood  be  naught. 

Song  of  the  Indian  r»omen  in  gratitude  to  Lad\)  Dufferin. 

By  Rudyard  Kipling. 

It  was  Kipling’s  India  that 
greeted  us  that  day  in  the  winter 
of  nineteen  hundred  and  thirteen. 
Palms,  temples,  brown  faces  and 
bodies,  gorgeous  colors  and  gor- 
geous odors,  with  heat  oppres- 
sive and  mosquitoes  aggressive, 
gave  not  the  slightest  impresson 
of  Christmas  which  was  drawing 
near. 

We  four  pilgrims,  weary  of 
bounding  billows,  were  glad  of 
the  glimpse  of  Madura  and  the 
fine  missionary  work  of  the  Ameri- 
can Board.  After  Christmas  on 
the  hills  with  Sir  Frederick  and 
Lady  Nicholson  a quick  descent 
into  the  steamy  plains  brought  us 
to  our  railway  journey  to  visit  a 
certain  “meddlesome  medical  mis- 
sionary.” We  knew  missionaries 
were  meddlesome,  we  had  heard  it  on  the  steamer  from  tourists,  and 
we  can  verify  their  statements.  We  found  these  missionaries  willing 
to  go  and  live  for  a whole  life  time  in  desolate  places,  removed  from  all 
congenial  society,  in  order  to  meddle  with  frightful  disease,  including 
the  care  of  colonies  of  lepers,  the  last  people  in  the  world  with  whom  the 
cheerful  tourist  critic  cares  to  meddle. 

One  woman  of  this  remarkable  group  is  Dr.  Ida  Scudder,  a repre- 
sentative of  the  Scudder  family,  who  a century  ago  began  the  work  of 
medical  missions  in  South  India.  The  grandfather,  sons,  and  now  the 


Vellore  Temple 


3 


grandchildren  have  made  a contribution  of  one  thousand  years  of  service 
to  this  land  of  our  allies.  Dr.  Ida,  a graduate  of  Cornell  Medical 
School,  is  so  vs^ell  known,  that  a letter  addressed  by  a confiding  person 
to  “Dr.  Ida,  India,”  was  actually  delivered  to  her  in  her  station  in 
Vellore.  There  in  the  Mary  Taber  Schell  Hospital,  supported  by  the 

Woman’s  Board  of 
the  Dutch  Reformed 
Church,  she  holds 
her  gentle  sway. 
Though  we  had 
never  met,  her  warm 
messages  of  invita- 
tion and  greeting  had 
reached  us  at  various 
points  on  the  way. 

“We”  were  two 
mothers  and  two 
daughters,  one  a 
Wellesley  graduate 
and  one  from  Vas- 
sar,  who  were  look- 
ing forward  with 
keen  interest  to  an 
introduction  to  the 
work  of  this  distin- 
guished woman.  We 
came  down  from  the 
hill  top  after  our  de- 
lightful holiday  week 
with  our  English 
friends  who  had 
given  us  an  intelli- 
gent and  enthusias- 
tic endorsement  of 
the  mission  which  we 
Dr.  Ida  Scudder  Were  tO  visit.  Sir 

Frederick  Nicholson,  one  of  the  great  statesmen  of  India,  organizer  of 
the  system  of  agricultural  banks  in  India,  leader  and  developer  of  a 
system  of  fisheries,  which  promises  to  prevent  the  frightful  famines  of 
India,  had  known  intimately  the  family  Dr.  Ida  represents.  We  were 
willing  to  put  his  testimony,  based  on  forty  years  in  India,  regarding  the 
value  of  missions,  and  the  character  of  missionaries  against  the  glib  testi- 
mony of  the  tourist  or  the  under-official  whose  own  life  of  dissipation  is 
occasionally  the  worst  difficulty  against  which  a missionary  must  combat. 

We  came  down  the  mountain  at  sunset,  through  great  plantations 


4 


of  coffee,  gay  with  red  berries;  with  cinchona  (quinine)  planted  between 
the  rows.  Gay,  wickedly  riotous  loops  and  sprays  of  lantana  killed  out 
other  growth  and  almost  barred  our  path  in  places. 

The  train  was  waiting  and  we  went  on  in  the  halting  fashion  of 
India’s  trains.  Every  station  offered  a medley  of  sounds  and  nationalities, 
with  picturesque  costumes,  vivid  in  color.  It  was  worth  while  to  wake 
up  with  a jolt  at  the  little  stations  and  peer  out  at  groups  of  men,  women 
and  children  who  seemed  to  choose  night  as  a time  for  travel.  The 
Wellesley  girl  remarked,  “I  never  expected  to  see  any  women  about 
the  streets  in  India.  I thought  they  were  all  shut  up  in  zenanas  or 
harems.” 

“Oh,  no,”  replied  Vassar,  learnedly,  from  her  shelf  opposite.  ‘‘It 
is  only  the  high  caste  women  or  Mohammedans  who  are  shut  up.  These 
are  evidently  the  common  coolies  or  low  caste  people.” 

Just  then  a group  of  shrinking,  shrouded  little  figures  shuffled  by  in 
the  wake  of  a gorgeous  billowy  male  of  majestic  mien,  who  disposed  of 
his  veiled  ladies  in  a woman’s  compartment,  second  class,  while  he 
entered  a first  class  cubicle.  He  was  not  an  attractive  gentleman  with 
his  sensual  face  and  lips  dyed  scarlet  with  betel  nut  which  he  chewed 
assiduously.  Large  tracts  of  brown  skin,  the  color  of  Circassian  walnut 
appeared  at  intervals,  only  partially  draped  by  his  scant,  white  muslin 
scarf.  Surmounting  all  was  a magnificent  gold  and  white  turban  made 
of  yards  of  muslin  which  might  have  been  unwound  to  complete  the 
draping  of  his  body. 

‘‘That  must  be  a Brahman,  or  at  least  a man  of  high  caste  and 
wealth,”  said  one  mother.  ‘‘The  harem  is  evidently  going  a-visiting.” 

Then,  at  three  o’clock,  as  we 
had  begun  to  settle  for  the  night, 
a gentle  pull  awakened  us  and  a 
soft  voice  announced,  “Katpadi,” 

(pronounced  card  party).  Our 
confused,  sleepy  minds  could  not 
recall  any  such  - engagement,  but 
we  tumbled  out  into  the  cool  night 
and  found  ourselves  alone,  with 
piles  of  luggage,  on  a lonely  plat- 
form in  a wilderness.  The  train 
rumbled  on.  As  we  stood  looking 
about,  bewildered,  another  cour- 
teous Indian  servant  appeared, 
saying,  ‘‘Salaam.  . This  Dr.  Ida 
Scudder  man.  You  come  me.” 

We  followed  more  brown  legs  > 
and  faces  and  mountainous  tur- 
bans as  meekly  as  the  group  of 

Indian  women,  and  climbed  into  Interior  Vellore  Temple 


5 


An  Attractive  Gateway 


the  carriage.  The  moon  was  dying,  but  still  cast  its  fretted  light  through 
feathery  trees  on  the  long  road,  the  white  unknown  trail  which  we  were  to 
travel,  to  the  land  of  our  dreams.  Through  the  silent  night  the  lively 
ponies  carried  us,  past  huddles  of  sleeping  huts,  or  groves  of  trees,  or  a 
temple  or  shrine.  The  silence  was  broken  now  and  then  with  strange 
cries  which  Vassar  and  Wellesley  interpreted  as  tigers  or  elephants,  but 
which  proved  to  be  jackals,  night  birds  and  strange  insects.  At  last 
through  a very  attractive  gateway  we  passed  into  the  compound  of  the 
Mary  Taber  Schell  Hospital  and  were  met  by  the  lady  we  had  come  so 
far  to  see.  She  was  very  lovely  in  the  dim  light,  in  her  soft,  white  gown, 
with  the  shining  of  her  personality  which  has  made  her  known  and  loved 
in  two  continents.  She  did  not  welcome  us  as  strangers,  but  as  her  own 
kin,  and  assigned  us  to  our  rooms  and  beds,  to  sleep  until  we  were  called 
for  chota  hazre,  “early  breakfast.” 

The  call  came  all  too  soon,  but  we  were  refreshed  by  the  cup  of 
coffee  with  toast  and  bananas,  the  regulation  breakfast  throughout  India. 
This  “little  breakfast”  is  taken  at  six  or  earlier.  The  real  substantial 
breakfast  is  at  eleven  o’clock,  after  the  heavy  work  of  the  morning  in 
school  and  hospital  are  over.  In  the  intense  heat  of  the  tropics  it  is  neces- 
sary to  do  one’s  hardest  work  early,  leaving  mid-day  for  rest  or  writing, 
as  the  sun  is  extremely  dangerous. 

The  Mary  Taber  Schell  Hospital  seemed  to  occupy  a large  part  of 
the  house  and  all  of  the  veranda.  About  the  courtyard,  which  adjoins  the 
back  veranda  of  the  main  house,  were  patients  resting  in  the  open  air 
under  gay  quilts.  Some  were  sitting  up  and  others  were  limping  about. 


6 


A Ward  in  Vellore  Hospital 

Sister  May,  an  English  nurse  who  came  to  the  relief  of  Dr.  Ida  in 
a time  of  great  need,  gives  some  vivid  bits  descriptive  of  these  hospital 
scenes  from  which  w^e  have  culled  the  following : 

There  are  two  large  wards,  one  where  poor  patients  are  admitted  and  treated 
free  of  charge,  and  one  for  caste  people  who  can  afford  to  pay  a little.  Besides 
this,  are  one  or  two  rooms  for  the  wealthier  patients  who  pay  a good  fee.  The 
beds  are  very  comfortable  with  wire  spring  mattresses,  but  as  the  Hindus  are  used 
to  the  floor,  it  is  difficult  to  get  them  to  remain  in  bed  at  first.  They  much  prefer 
the  hard  floor.  They  feel  they  are  being  put  on  shelves  and  are  very  afraid  of 
falling  off.  So  a nurse  here  must  never  be  alarmed  or  distressed  to  find  her  patient 
on  the  floor  at  the  side  of,  or  often  under  the  bed.  Each  patient,  unless  destitute, 
brings  either  a relative  or  friend  to  look  after  her  and  cook  her  food.  Sometimes 
the  patient  gets  under  and  the  attendant  takes  her  place  on  the  bed.  It  is  no  use 
trying  to  keep  the  wards  or  patients  in  order  as  we  do  in  England — one  must  be 
resigned  to  the  inevitable  and  do  the  best  you  can.  But  considering  all  things, 
the  wards  are  very  clean  and  nice.  The  floors  are  concrete  and  easily  washed, 
walls  are  constantly  whitewashed  and  a few  nice  pictures  hang  around.  Each 
patient  has  her  locker  with  a little  white  cloth  on  the  top.  The  dressing-wagon  is 
in  its  place  and  medicines  in  regulation  order,  and  charts  as  neatly  kept  as  in  any 
well-regulated  hospital  at  home.  There  are  seventeen  nurses  and  a night  nurse 
at  present.  They  are  all  native  Christian  girls,  and  look  so  nice  in  their  pink 
jackets  and  pure  white  sarees.  Their  bare  feet  enable  them  to  be  quick  and  noise- 
less in  their  movements. 


/ 


In  the  corner  here  are  two  Mohammedan  women,  “very  gosha”  we  call  them, 
because  they  are  not  used  to  public  life  and  in  their  homes  are  shut  away  and  see 
no  men  but  those  of  their  own  household.  As  there  was  no  accommodation  for 
them  in  the  private  wards,  they  had  to  be  content  to  share  with  the  others,  but  have 
a screen  partly  round  them.  When  their  respective  husbands  visit  them,  as  we  have 
not  sufficient  screens,  a sheet  has  to  be  tied  between  the  beds  and  they  get  as  closely 
as  they  can  beneath  its  shadow.  When  the  first  one  came  in,  she  showed  no 
interest  in  anything  around,  being  entirely  occupied  with  herself.  Now  she  really 
shows  interest  in  others,  and  expresses  sympathy  for  their  suffering.  Poor  women, 
this  little  experience  of  contact  with  the  outer  world  is  good  for  them,  and  I really 
think  they  enjoy  it  and  are  not  sorry  now  that  they  could  not  be  alone  with  them- 
selves. They  are  not  too  ill  to  take  in  all  that  goes  on  around. 

In  the  next  bed  we  find  an  old  lady  who  has  been  operated  on  for  cataract. 
She  is  a Christian  and  the  widow  of  a Christian  professor,  she  proudly  tells  us — 
(he  was  a theological  teacher).  Her  eye  is  better,  she  says;  she  has  had  a good 
night  and  very  little  pain,  and  in  affectionate  gratitude  takes  our  hands  and  kisses 
them  in  turn.  Next  is  a little  girl  of  six  years,  convalescent  after  a long  enteric 
fever.  Such  a dear  little  round  face  and  big  brown  eyes.  She  has  just  had  per- 
mission to  have  her  ordinary  dinner  of  curry  and  rice,  and  any  of  you  who  have  had 
typhoid  fever  and  milk  diet  for  three  weeks  will  sympathize  with  little  Jeevamonie’s 

delight.  She  is  just  beginning  to  enjoy  life.  Her  mother  stands  radiant  by  her 

side  and  salaams  profusely. 

We  turn  to  the  next  bed.  There  is  a poor  wee  mite  of  four  years,  suffering 
from  a bad  congenital  heart.  She  has  a big  body  but  poor  little  withered  legs 
that  cannot  support  her.  The  face  is  too  old  for  her  years — she  has  constant  head- 
ache, and  when  asked  how  she  is,  will  put  her  little  hand  to  her  head  and  tell  us, 
“Thalai  novoo,”  head  aching.  I had  one  dollie  left  that  my  little  consumptive 
patients  at  Dr.  Barnardo’s  village  sent  me  for  the  black  children.  So  it  cheers 
this  tiny  suffering  India  sister,  and  I wish  the  little  patient  who  dressed  and  paid 
for  that  dollie  out  of  her  few  pence,  could  see  the  brightening  eyes  and  loving  look 
as  the  dollie  is  clasped  in  her  little  arms. 

Now  we  come  to  “Armonie,” — dear,  patient  Armonie;  she  greets  us  with  a 
smiling  salaam,  but  she  is  a great  sufferer. 

She  has  heart  disease  and  very  bad  dropsy, 
and  has  to  be  continually  tapped  to  get 
relief.  She  is  so  responsive  to  any  kind 
word  and  deed,  and  always  has  a smile 
and  salaam  when  we  pass  her  bed.  She 
is,  sad  to  say,  a heathen.  Her  husband 
quite  lately  consulted  the  astrologers  as  to 
her  fate,  and  received  great  consolation 
by  being  told  she  was  to  live  another 
twenty-eight  years  and  outlive  himself  by 
ten  years.  This  news,  he  thought,  would 
greatly  cheer  the  doctor  in  her  ministra- 
tions. After  all,  there  is  nothing  like 
keeping  the  spirits  up  in  a long  illness, 
and  “Armonie”  shares  her  husband’s 
consolation  in  the  good  news. 


Not  Wanted  Babies 


8 


We  will  not  stay  to  talk  about  each 
patient,  but  now  pass  to  the  private  ward 
where  there  is  a dear  old  lady,  the  mother 
of  a rich  Hindu  who  can  afford  to  pay 
well  for  her  treatment.  She  has  had  a 
cancer  successfully  removed  from  her 
cheek,  and  her  son  is  desirous  of  making 
the  doctor  a present  in  expression  of  h’s 
gratitude.  He  would  like  it  to  be  a per- 
sonal gift,  but  this  the  doctor  objects  to, 
and  hopes  he  will  be  persuaded  to  support 
a bed.  He  is  not  quite  willing  for  this, 
which  he  suggests  another  member  of  the 
family  may  like  to  do.  Finally,  he  prom- 
ises a new  table,  badly  needed  in  one  of 
the  operating-rooms. 

Leaving  this  ward,  we  peep  into  the 
operating-room  as  we  pass.  Sundram, 
the  little  matron,  is  busy  sterilizing  and 
getting  ready  for  an  operation  later  on. 

All  is  in  beautiful  order  here  and  would 
do  credit  to  any  of  our  English  hospitals. 

A bell  rings,  and  we  know  it  is  time 
for  prayers  in  the  out-patients’  hall.  A hymn  is  sung  in  Tamil  to  some  bright  English 
tune.  As  many  as  possible  of  the  hospital  staff  are  present  and  the  singing  is  hearty. 
Then  one  of  the  Bible  women  leads  in  prayer  and  follows  with  a Gospel  address 
illustrated  by  a large  picture.  The  patients  as  a rule  listen  intently,  and  occasionally 
make  some  remarks. 

Here  is  a mother  with  her  little  girl  of  eight  years  lying  on  the  floor  wrapped 
up  in  a sheet.  She  opens  the  sheet  as  we  approach  and  discloses  such  a pitiable 
object,  quite  blind,  the  poor  eyes  being  eaten  away  with  a horrible  disease.  The 
little  face  is  terribly  disfigured  and  the  whole  body  far  from  a pleasant  object,  but 
the  doctor  says  her  mother  loves  her  dearly  and  considers  her  a great  treasure,  and 
would  greatly  feel  her  loss.  We  feel  it  would  be  the  greatest  blessing  for  the 
poor  little  sufferer  to  be  taken  away — there  is  no  hope  and  only  a sad  future  can 
await  it.  Poor  mothers,  for  them  there  is  no  comfort  at  the  thought  of  their  little 
ones  being  safely  folded  in  the  arms  of  the  Good  Shepherd. 

The  question  arises,  why  should  a woman  of  Dr.  Ida  Scudder’s 
culture  and  brilliancy  of  mind  and  unusual  preparation  as  a surgeon, 
expatriate  herself  and  give  her  precious  life  to  the  relief  of  the  women 
and  children  in  the  Vellore  District?  Why  is  she  not  in  an  apartment 
in  Boston  or  New  York  or  occupying  a good  hospital  position  here?  Let 
us  try  to  make  it  clear. 

When  Ida  Scudder,  the  daughter  of  a medical  missionary  in  India, 
completed  her  education  in  America  she  had  definitely  decided  not  to 
be  a missionary.  She  was  willing  to  go  out  to  India  to  visit  her  parents 
and  to  see  the  land  of  her  birth.  Then  she  proposed  to  return  to  America 
and  live  her  own  life. 

One  morning  a distinguished  Hindu  gentleman  appeared  at  the 
Mission  bungalow  and  requested  Miss  Scudder  to  come  and  see  his  young 


9 


wife  who  was  seriously  ill.  She  said,  “You  evidently  wish  my  father. 
I am  not  a doctor.  He  is  out  on  tour.  I cannot  help  you.”  But  a caste 
woman  could  not  see  a man  and  the  Hindu  could  not  understand  that 
this  young  woman  was  unable  to  meet  his  need  and  continued  to  plead 
with  her.  He  told  her  that  his  girl  wife  was  to  be  a mother,  she  was 
in  agony  and  would  die  unless  she  came.  But  she  was  as  helpless  as 
any  college  girl  in  America  before  this  need  and  the  man  went  away 
sorrowful. 

Later  in  the  day  another  came,  a poor,  low  caste  man,  and  begged 


A Typical  Low  Caste  Mother 


her  in  the  name  of  all  the  gods  to  come  to  his  poor  house  to  save  his 
wife  who  was  in  a similar  condition,  with  no  one  to  aid.  Again  she 
refused,  saying  she  could  not,  she  had  not  been  trained. 

That  night  from  the  Brahman  quarter  at  one  side  of  the  town,  and 
from  the  out-caste  hut  at  the  other,  came  the  wailing  for  the  dead.  The 
bodies  of  two  young  wives  with  their  little  babies  were  carried  to  the 
burning  ground. 

Ida  Scudder  had  heard  her  call.  She  came  back  to  America, 
entered  Cornell  Medical  School,  and  returned  to  Vellore  where  she  has 


10 


given  twenty-three  years  of  service  to  the  women  and  children  of  Vellore 
and  the  villages  for  miles  around. 

Perhaps  the  most  unique  feature  of  her  work  is  the  weekly  trip 
to  Gudiyatam,  a large  city  twenty-three  miles  from  Vellore,  where  a 
branch  dispensary  has  been  opened  in  a little  room  built  back  of  the 
church.  It  is  made  in  a motor  given  by  a friend.  A start  is  made  at 
six  in  the  morning  with  the  motor  packed  so  full  with  boxes  of  medicines 
and  appliances  that  there  is  hardly  room  for  herself  and  her  assistant. 
The  first  stop  is  made  six  miles  out  on  the  wayside.  A crowd  is  awaiting 
her  arrival  and  others  come  hurrying  in  as  the  motor  is  heard.  Under 
the  shade  of  a tree  with  the  motor  as  a dispensary  the  work  begins.  One 
assistant  records  the  names  and  numbers  on  the  prescription  blank  and 
receives  the  small  fee  charged.  With  the  blank  the  patient  passes  to  the 
doctor,  who  diagnoses  and  fills  in  the  prescription  blank.  Then  the  dis- 
pensing nurse,  from  her  stock  of  prepared  powders  and  pills  and  stock 
mixtures  in  large  bottles  and  ointments  and  liniments,  dispenses  medicines 
to  fifty  or  sixty  patients.  Even  the  native  chauffeur  is  impressed  and 
applies  ointments  and  rubs  in  liniments  and  repeats  instructions  as  to  the 
method  of  using  the  remedies,  for  at  times  the  instructions  must  be 
repeated  five  or  six  times  before  the  patients  are  satisfied.  They  must 
even  be  shown  how  to  open  a powder  and  take  it  lest  they  should  swallow 
it  paper  and  all ! As  soon  as  possible  a start  is  made  for  the  next  stopping 
place.  Here  another  crowd  of  fifty  patients  with  a hundred  and  fifty 
friends  awaits  the  hospital  motor  about  a little  shelter  erected  by  the 
people  for  the  doctor  to  work  in.  From  that  to  a third  and  then  on  to 
Gudiyatam,  where  the  largest  number  of  patients  are  waiting.  Here 
even  operations  can  be  performed  and  more  deliberate  work  done  and 
instructions  for  a week’s  treatment  given.  There  is  hardly  time  for  a 
hurried  lunch  before  the  doctor  is  off  on  her  return  trip.  This  time 
patients  are  seen  who  have  come  in  from  the  other  side  of  the  road,  for 
they  must  be  divided  in  some  way.  It  is  eight  o’clock  and  quite  dark 
when  they  get  home.  Thirteen  to  fourteen  hours  of  intense  nerve- 
exhausting  work  during  which  forty-six  miles  have  been  covered  by  road 
and  three  hundred  patients  treated. 

What  wonder  that  the  little  car  is  garlanded  with  marigolds  and 
jassamine,  the  love  offerings  of  grateful  hearts! 

Let  us  consider  the  great  need.  There  are  one  hundred  and  fifty 
million  women  in  India.  Less  than  half  of  this  number  are  more 
or  less  secluded,  being  high  caste  Hindus  or  Moslems.  These,  according 
to  rules  of  caste  and  religion  or  rigid  social  customs,  cannot  be  reached 
by  any  but  women  physicians.  A few  of  the  lower  classes  can,  of  course, 
be  accommodated  in  government  hospitals,  which  the  British  rule  has 
provided.  There  are,  however,  for  millions  of  women  who  cannot  be 
reached  by  government  hospitals,  one  hundred  and  sixty  Women  physi- 
cians. Owing  to  the  exigencies  of  the  climate  and  the  extreme  difficulty 


11 


of  the  work,  perhaps  one-quarter 
of  these  are  out  of  India  on  fur- 
lough, leaving  about  one  hundred 
in  active  service  continuously. 
There  is  a similar  group  of  Ameri- 
can and  British  nurses  who  are 
doing  a great  service  in  training 
groups  of  Indian  girls  m the  hos- 
pitals. The  supreme  aim  of  this 
unit  of  one  hundred  heroic  medi- 
cal women  scattered  over  a coun- 
try larger  than  the  United  States, 
with  people  of  two  hundred 
nationalities  and  languages,  is  to  establish  medical  schools  where  thou- 
sands of  Indian  girls  may  be  trained  to  practice  medicine  for  their  own 
pedple.  This  is  the  only  adequate  plan.  The  government  of  India  is 
heartily  in  sympathy  with  the  proposition  and  has  endeavored  to  meet 
the  need  in  some  of  its  medical  schools  for  men.  Society,  however,  is 
not  ready  for  the  education  of  women  with  men  in  medical  schools  and 
the  experiment  has  been  unsuccessful.  The  government,  acknowledging 
the  failure,  now  turns  to  the  few  women  doctors  under  missionary  aus- 
pices and  urges  them  to  proceed  with  their  plans  as  with  them  the  girls 
can  be  more  or  less  sheltered  and  under  high  Christian  and  moral  influ- 
ences during  their  period  of  medical  education. 

One  school  under  such  auspices  is  established  at  Ludhiana  in  North 
India,  a week’s  journey  from  this  city  of  Vellore  in  the  south.  It  is  a 
far  country  to  these  timid  people  and  they  are  slow  to  entrust  their  girls 
to  another  climate  and  language  and  race  so  far  from  home.  And  yet, 
a few  brave  Christian  girls  have  gone  to  Ludhiana,  so  great  is  the  need 
and  so  eager  their  desire  to  meet  it.  British  women  have  aided  much  in 
establishing  this  school  in  the  north,  in  which  Americans  now  have  part. 

Lady  Dufferin,  during  her  husband’s  official  connection  with  India 
as  Viceroy,  did  noble  work  in  establishing  hospitals  in  India,  which 
called  forth  the  poem  by  Kipling,  “The  Song  of  the  Women.” 

But  until  Indian  doctors  and  nurses  are  trained,  even  these  hospitals 
must  often  be  closed  for  lack  of  staff.  Neither  Great  Britain  nor  America 
has  sent  anything  like  an  adequate  number  even  to  the  one  hospital  here 
and  there,  hundreds  of  miles  apart.  These  missionary  hospitals  are 
rarely  well  equipped,  never  properly  staffed,  and  when  the  one  doctor 
drops  from  overwork  and  exhaustion  the  hospital  closes  and  hope  dies 
in  the  hearts  of  the  women.  Imagination  fails  to  picture  it.  Millions  on 
millions  of  women,  hardly  more  than  children,  more  than  all  the  people 
in  the  United  States,  never  saw  a doctor  or  nurse.  They  are  born,  live 
in  pain,  marry  at  eleven  or  twelve,  bear  children,  and  die.  Oh,  the 


-1 

i 


Vellore  Fort 


12 


agony  of  it.  There  is  no  one  to 
help,  no  one  to  prevent  all  this 
horror  of  unceasing,  pitiless  pain. 

Now  that  war  has  flashed 
and  dinned  into  our  imagination 
the  awfulness  of  human  suffering 
and  has  made  us  think  and  see 
and  feel,  possibly  we  shall  realize 
what  is  happening  in  these  trenches 
on  the  battlefield  of  motherhood 
throughout  India,  and  indeed 
throughout  the  whole  East.  We  have  seen  the  Red  Cross  summon 
millions  of  hands  to  help,  secure  millions  of  dollars,  and  thousands  of 
trained  men  and  women  with  all  the  most  modern  appliances,  anesthetics 
and  miraculous  surgery  for  our  wounded  and  dying  men.  All  this  was 
not  too  much  to  do  in  the  name  of  humanity  and  duty.  Will  this  experi- 
ence help  us  to  see  and  to  feel  this  age-long  agony  of  womanhood  and 
childhood? 


WHY  HAVE  WE  NOT  KNOWN? 

' A few  women  who  have  gone,  when  they  have  come  home,  worn 
out  with  the  strain,  have  tried  to  tell  us.  The  mission  boards,  whom 
they  represent,  have  made  a little  impression,  but  we  have  been  too  busy, 
too  occupied  with  securing  the  last  privileges  of  privileged  women  for 
ourselves.  It  is  not  strange  that  some  of  these  women,  worn,  and  perhaps 
a little  grieved  over  our  cruel  indifference  to  their  cry,  have  gone  back, 
despairing,  to  their  life-long  battle  alone.  There  has  been  little  literature 
to  tell  of  their  needs.  At  this  moment  there  is  in  press  the  first  history 
of  their  service,  “A  Crusade  of  Compassion,”*  written  by  a doctor  of 
India  and  an  accomplished  author  of  America.  This  document  must 
be  read  by  American  college  women  if  they  would  really  understand 
in  any  degree  the  need  of  the  world  of  women. 

We  can  only  touch  most  briefly  on  the  need  in  this  statement.  What 
we  saw  with  our  eyes  at  the  front  convinced  us  that  there  is  no  suffering 
so  intolerable  and  so  inexcusable  as  the  suffering  of  women  in  non- 
Christian  lands.  Inexcusable  because  we  are  perfectly  able  with  our 
resources  of  educated  women,  and  money,  to  change  these  conditions 
immediately  if  we  will.  Is  there  any  earthly  reason  why,  out  of  the 
thousands  of  women  graduated  from  our  women’s  colleges  in  this  coun- 
try, scores  should  not  be  securing  medical  training  to  go  out  as  units  to 

*"A  Crusade  of  Compassion”  compiled  by  Belle  J.  Allen,  M.  A.,  M.  D.,  edited  by 
Caroline  Atwater  Mason.  Paper  35c,  postage  5c;  cloth  50c,  postage  7c.  Order  from  M.  H. 
Leavis,  West  Medford.  Mass. 


13 


meet  these  enemies  of  ignorance,  superstition  and  disease?  Is  there  any 
reason  why  such  units  should  not  be  supported  and  equipped  by  the 
great  throngs  of  college  women  who  have  given  themselves  so  superbly 
to  Red  Cross  work,  and  who  must  remain  in  this  country  for  various 
reasons.  Is  there  any  reason  we  can  give  to  God  or  Humanity  for 
failing  to  establish  the  few  medical  schools  so  sorely  needed  for  Oriental 
women?  This  would  be  the  beginning  of  permanent  relief.  It  is  a task 
worthy  of  American  college  women. 

The  situation  today  in  Vellore  is  as  follows:  Dr.  Scudder  and  a 
small  group  of  medical  women,  American  and  British,  in  South  India, 
with  the  encouragement  of  all  the  medical  men  of  South  India,  have 
gone  forward  in  the  face  of  insuperable  obstacles  and  have  opened  a 
medical  school  for  women.  They  have  secured  iivo  women  doctors  for 
the  faculty  this  opening  year.  Voorhees  College  for  men,  under  the 
Dutch  Reformed  Board,  has  welcomed  the  girl  students  to  its  classes  in 
science  and  to  the  use  of  its  laboratories.  The  government  of  India 
has  given  one  hundred  and  ten  acres  of  land  as  a site  for  the  school,  and 
has,  in  spite  of  war  and  its  terrific  burden  of  debt,  borne  so  splendidly  by 
Great  Britain,  given  half  of  the  support  of  the  school.  The  surgeon- 
general  stated  that  if  six  girls  applied  for  entrance,  considering  the  con- 
servatism of  India,  it  would  be  sufficient  encouragement  to  open.  When 
the  word  went  out  that  the  opportunity  had  come  sixty-nine  girls  applied 
for  entrance.  Only  eighteen  were  accepted  as  sufficiently  advanced  in 
education  to  benefit  by  the  training  in  the  medical  school. 

In  August,  1918,  the  Governor  of  Madras,  Lord  Pentland,  and 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Bryson,  head  of  the  Medical  Department  of  Madras 
Presidency,  opened  this  school.  Dr.  Kugler  of  Guntur  and  Dr.  Ida 
Scudder  represented  the  Boards  of  Missions. 

Fifty  years  ago  Women’s  Foreign  Missionary  Societies  began  the 
work  of  education  for  the  women  of  India.  If  they  had  not  meant  that 
women  should  rise  through  the  primary  and  secondary  schools  into  col- 
leges and  vocational  schools  they  should  not  have  begun  teaching  the 
alphabet  in  the  little  mud  schoolhouses  half  a century  ago.  The  inevi- 
table result  has  been,  more  education,  greater  ambition,  a throwing  off 
of  the  shackles  which  are  so  heavy  in  India. 

The  Mary  Taber  Schell  Hospital,  with  its  splendid  reputation  for 
efficiency,  built  up  by  women  physicians  of  the  Dutch  Reformed  Church, 
has  offered  itself  as  the  foundation  for  this  medical  school.  It  must  be 
increased  in  size  at  the  earliest  possible  moment  in  order  to  meet  the  high 
requirements  of  the  British  government  in  India.  Money  is  needed  for 
the  enlargement  of  the  hospital  which  must  include  one  hundred  and  fifty 
beds.  A bequest  from  the  estate  of  Mrs.  John  D.  Rockefeller  supplies 
the  money,  fifty  thousand  dollars,  for  the  first  building,  to  be  known  as 
the  Laura  Spelman  Rockefeller  building.  This  will  include  offices,  class 


14 


rooms  and  laboratories.  The  building  will  be  commenced  as  soon  as  the 
plans  are  approved.  In  the  meantime  this  first  class  is  going  ahead 
bravely  in  its  rented  house,  with  the  very  kind  assistance  of  the  faculty 
of  the  Voorhees  College. 


Voorhees  College,  Vellore 


What  is  Needed?  Everything! 

Doctors  for  the  faculty. 

Nurses  to  train  the  great  group  of  Indian  girls  who  are  ready  to 
take  such  training. 

Equipment,  from  a skeleton  to  an  X-ray  and  a motor  ambulance; 
$2,500  would  supply  the  ambulance,  and  $2,000  would  provide  the 
X-ray.  Of  this  $ 1 ,000  has  been  pledged  by  a famous  doctor  in 
America. 

The  land  is  not  on  the  railroad  but  in  the  town  some  three  miles 
from  the  railroad  station.  As  people  flock  in,  pleading  for  help,  it  will 
be  necessary  to  have  a dispensary  in  the  center  of  the  town  to  receive 
the  incoming  throngs.  There  is  no  way  of  transportation  to  the  hospital 
except  by  rough,  shaking,  dangerous  ox  carts. 

IV ho  will  give  an  ambulance? 

We  have  not  found  it  hard  to  supply  many  ambulances  for  Italy 
and  France.  Is  it  not  possible  that  some  of  our  colleges  will  be  ready  to 
meet  this  need? 

The  dispensary  is  the  first  need.  It  will  cost  $20,000.  Which 
college  will  give  it? 

Scholarships  are  needed  for  girls  who  long  to  study  and  who  have 


15 


absolutely  no  means  to  pay  their  traveling  expenses,  board  and  tuition 
and  to  buy  the  necessary  books. 

Four  hundred  dollars  would  provide  medical  training  for  four 
years  for  one  of  these  Indian  girls.  Many  a college  student  out  of 
her  spending  money  could  undertake  the  education  and  support  of  such 
a substitute  without  great  self  denial. 


Women  Builders  of  a College  in  India.  This  is  their  hard  lot. 


For  buildings  we  need: 

T Tpo  residences  for  doctors  and  nurses,  each $8,000 

A dormitory  for  students 25,000 

A home  for  native  nurses / 0,000 


A quiet  chapel,  where  the  Great  Physician,  the  only  hope  for 
India’s  women,  can  impress  His  life  and  sacrifice  daily 
through  prayer  and  hymn  and  Scripture  on  these  young 


apostles  of  healing 20,000 

An  operating  theatre  must  be  supplied 10,000 


A good  TV  ell-furnished  laboratory,  including  in  the  furnishings 
two  well-equipped  A-grade  bacteriologists.  The  faculty 
should  be  increased  yearly  by  three  physicians. 


16 


OTHER  NEEDS. 


Instruments,  medicine,  Red  Cross  dressings. 

Money  to  take  in  the  little  wives  and  mothers  who  flock  to  the  gate 
and  plead  to  Dr.  Ida  as  their  only  savior. 

Twenty  thousand  dollar  endowment  for  twenty  beds,  $1,000  each. 
Support  of  20  native  nurses,  each  $100  a year,  $2,000. 

Then  think  of  everything  needed  in  a hospital  here,  and  organize 
the  students  of  our  women’s  colleges  for  first-aid  to  this  Woman’s  Medi- 
cal School  of  India. 

If  only  we  could  write  these  words  in  flame  that  would  burn  into 
the  hearts  of  the  students  of  America!  You  would  then  erase  the  small 


Preparing  to  Build  the  Walls.  Will  you  complete  them  ? 


amounts  we  have  asked  for  and  would  begin  to  prepare  adequately  for 
this  great  enterprise  which  must  depend  on  you. 

We  have  said  nothing  about  salaries.  They  are  not  large.  Our 
doctors  and  nurses  receive  far  less  than  an  ordinary  trained  nurse  or  good 
dressmaker  in  this  country.  Six  hundred  to  eight  hundred  dollars  a year 
are  the  salaries,  with  rooms  m which  to  live  and  certain  allowances  for 
travel  and  outfit. 

Not  one  woman,  but  at  least  a score,  in  every  one  of  our  women’s 
colleges  should  change  immediately  their  courses  from  the  cultural  to 
the  scientific  and  should  begin  to  fit  themselves  to  go  out  to  these  women 
in  India  and  China  and  Africa  who  have  no  hope  except  through  the 
richly  endowed  young  women  of  Great  Britain  and  America. 


17 


It  must  be  remembered  that  this  is  not  merely  an  humanitarian 
effort.  This  phase  of  internationalism,  indeed  the  whole  idea  of  inter- 
nationalism began  long  ago  on  Calvary.  The  Saviour  of  the  world  in- 
cluded a world  democracy  in  His  ideals,  and  in  His  call,  which  still  rings 
down  the  centuries  unanswered.  The  work  of  medical  missions  must 
include  the  humanitarian  side,  but  it  must  extend  far  beyond  that.  It  is 
a testing  to  go  overseas  with  a well-equipped  unit  for  a year  or  two, 
impelled  by  a great  wave  of  patriotism.  But  to  quote  the  words  of 
Edith  Cavell  as  she  went  to  her  death,  Patriotism  is  not  enough.  We 
must  have  love,"  and  only  through  that  infinite  love  given  for  the  life  of 
the  world  is  there  a sufficient  motive  to  take  women  like  Dr.  Ida  Scudder 
and  her  associates  out  to  India  for  a life  time  of  heroic,  self-forgetting 
service.  It  is  not  enough  simply  to  care  for  the  bodies  of  these  women 
while  their  hearts  bleed  and  break  with  no  Saviour.  We  have  thought 
it  well  in  our  army  not  only  to  give  Red  Cross  aid,  but  to  send  our  chap- 
lains and  our  Y.  M.  C.  A.  and  our  war  workers  to  meet  the  spiritual 
need  of  men  who  face  death  and  the  loss  of  all  that  life  holds  dear. 

Will  not  our  colleges  meet  the  test  and  prepare  immediately  groups 
•.  of  women  filled  with  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  will  go  humbly  in  the 
spirit  of  obedience  and  unselfishness  and  give  their  lives  in  this  great  adven- 
ture? They  will  go  quietly,  without  uniform  or  decoration  or  parade. 
They  will  be  misunderstood  and  misinterpreted  and  accused  of  waste  of 
life.  But  we  believe  that  knowing  the  need  they  will  go,  for  we  have 
found  in  the  colleges  of  America,  with  the  need  of  the  war,  the  splendid 
heroism  which  Christianity  had  led  us  to  expect. 

This  will  not  be  the  work  of  a few  in  each  college.  Those  who  stay 
must  pledge  now  that  in  the  same  spirit  and  the  same  Divine  strength 
they  will  stand  back  of  the  units  who  go  to  bring  in  the  new  day  for 
India’s  women. 

Some  even  among  you  have  drunk  of  the  red  wine  of  sacrifice  of 
war,  the  cup  of  sorrow  and  suffering.  With  hearts  broken  with  pain  and 
loss  surely  you  will  listen  to  this  cry  of  the  women  of  the  world,  the 
fighters  for  life,  the  mothers  of  men. 

Margaret  Deland  in  her  story  of  the  horror  of  blackness  on  the 
western  front  has  given  a new  version  of  the  sacrament  of  sacrifice.  She 
tells  of  our  boys  with  hearts  aglow  with  eagerness  to  right  an  awful 
wrong,  who  have  braved  the  seas  and  thrown  in  their  gift  of  young  life 
gladly. 

“They  took  the  cup  of  sacrifice  and  suffering  and  gave  thanks.” 
And,  oh,  we  pray,  those  of  us  who  have  seen  and  felt,  that  you  may  take, 
as  your  Master  took,  this  cup  of  fellowship  with  human  suffering,  “giving 


18 


thanks.”  It  is  not  in  formal  ritual, 
but  in  reality  today,  that  we  must 
drink  of  this  cup  if  we  would  enter 
into  communion  with  our  Lord.  Are 
you  ready?  You  the  best  prepared, 
the  dearest  in  our  homes  and  col- 
leges, to  meet  the  call  from  the  heart 
of  the  world,  as  Christ  met  it,  with 
your  gift  of  life.  There  is  no  intel- 
lect too  brilliant,  no  training  too  thor- 
ough, no  life  too  valuable  to  be 
offered  in  this  great  cause.  The  vic- 
tory will  be  to  conquer  the  world 
through  love,  to  win  Heaven  for  earth,  and  for  many  of  you  it  may  be 
to  save  your  own  souls  in  a great  cause. 

Our  boys  have  bridged  the  seas  with  their  young  lives  in  a great 
and  holy  warfare.  It  is  one  world  that  faces  us  today.  “There  is  no 
more  sea”  to  those  who  hear  the  call  of  human  need  and  acknowledge 
the  claim  of  a world  Saviour  to  those  who  would  help  to  “make  a new 
heaven  and  a new  earth  wherein  dwelleth  righteousness.” 

“The  tumult  and  the  shouting  dies. 

The  Captains  and  the  Kings  depart; 

Still  stands  thine  ancient  sacrifice, 

A broken  and  a contrite  heart. 

Lord  God  of  Hosts  be  with  us  yet 
Lest  we  forget;  lest  we  forget.” 


1 


The  Old  Fort,  Vellore 


19 


SALAAM 


ssu»«*Nce  •sew.  no..  aosTow 


